Amidst The Darkness
by Wumbaa7
Summary: Wow great title. O-O Um okay so I'm a little potato who can't judge her own writing. This is one of my first fanfictions of Jean and Marco I just really like angst and apocalypse aus so I hope you don't gag. It'll get better when I update. I think. Please comment and tell me how you thought of it or tell me how to improve in any way. Okay um. I love you. ;-; Bye bye. :))


( Attack on Titan. JeanMarco. Zombie apocalypse au. I really hope this works out. I hope my writing isn't too shitty. I just really like angst. Ok bye. I love you. ;-; )

I guess you could call my life pretty sub-par. I live in an apartment with my giant geek of a roommate. I go to a community college. I've pretty much gotten medium grades my whole life.. besides Math. I'm twenty-two, and I still wear spider man boxers. I'm fairly close with my family. My Dad and I get on each others nerves, though. I've had a few girl-friends. They all kinda ended in " Your're a dick, Jean." Or the usually " Go fuck yourself." Well, there was Alison. But that doesn't matter. Alison doesn't matter anymore. Not at all, really. It seems like _humans_ don't really matter anymore.

But did we ever really matter? I'm not sure. Maybe a long, long time ago.

I still don't know, though.

"The Air-Force has had no success in keeping the infected at minimum..."

"Psst..!"

"...electricity will be shut down at 3:46 p.m tomorrow, and as a last affirmation, the Armed forces will keep at the cleanse unti-"

"Hey! Get up, idiot."

"-the sick are quarantined-"

"Turn that shit down."

"-but until then-stay indoo-"

Fuck.

Raining.

It's raining, that's what I notice first. It's the type of weather where mud and debris clog up the drain pipes and your hair is constantly matted down and soggy from the fog and sweat.

The shouting is still booming out my bedroom window when my eyes flicker open, I'm not surprised to see the looming shadow of my room-mate standing over me, a saggy look to his appearance. Sweats and a corduroy jacket. Just fucking fashionable.

I'm also not surprised the first thing that comes out of my mouth is a criticism.

" You look homeless. Here, have my socks." I tease, bending over to pick at the bed-ridden fabric covering my feet.

" Fuck off," He snorts.

" The world is just buzzing today. Y'know I had to go out and tell that _cult_ who keep asking for our money and support or whatever to leave us alone? _Again?_ "

" Ugh, God." I sigh, rubbing my eyes and tearing my gaze away from the thick-sculled loaf of bread standing two feet away from me. Sure enough, when I look out the window, the protesters are all still there. The police have intervened now, holding up their stupid boards and throwing their stupid cop privileged in everyone's faces.

" Tsh, fuckin' hate them."

" Yeah, I know. Too fuckin' loud. Gross ass protesters-"

" The cops, you _fuck_." I quip, squinting back out the window.

" C'mon, Jean. You gotta see this shit."

His name is Gabe, my dopey roommate. He was going to university to study law t one point but... now he sits smoking a joint a day and playing Mario cart at three in the morning. Guess it didn't work out for him. Not like my situation isn't similar.

I jump out of bed after the third tug on my shirt, and I really feel like punching him in the throat. When I walk into the living room, he's sitting on the lazy-chair eating a bowl of macaroni. The television is buzzing a bit, transitioning from grey to colour and over again. There's people, obviously. I mean it's the news channel. And blood, actually.

Wait.

" Dude.. It's getting crazy." He says, shoving a spoon-full into his shit-eating literal mouth anus. :))

" It was crazy last week." I snort, deflating onto the ratty couch in front of the TV. I puff out my cheeks as I watch the flickering screen. I watch more intently now, observing the increasingly more frightening things occurring right before my eyes.

There's so much blood. I was told that it wouldn't get to this extent at all. The government would calm it down. They'd find a cure.

Looks like they've just lied to us all once again.

How is this happening?

" No, no, no, no, _shit_." I hear him scramble by me and kneel in front of the now black screen of the television. He taps aggressively at it for like, a full minute. No luck I guess.

" God damn it!" He grunts, scrunching up his knuckles until his hands are almost pure white.

" That! did you see that? That was fucking important!"

" Hey, Man. Chill the fuck out! Stop pacing, you freak."

" No, no you don't understand, Jean." I can see he has small gatherings of nervous tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. This is serious. He has a sort of sensitive sneer to his appearance now.

" We're gonna die. All of us."

" What the _fuck_ are you talking about." I scoff, taking a sip of the day old orange juice I left on the side table. I grimace as I do so.

" Ignorant. You ignorant idiot. Did you not hear the fucking man? Everything is shutting down! You didn't hear? Dumbas-

A siren. Three sirens. Shouting-yelling, screaming. What is this? This mess? How did I get here?

What-

" Gabe, what the fuck!" He's tugging me up off the couch.

" Get your stuff, Jean. We have to leave."

No, no, no! What about friends. Connie, Sasha, Armin, that _gorgeous_ Mikasa. Fuck, even Eren! What about them. What are they gonna do? Where are they? Why haven't I phoned them? Why haven't I texted them yet? What kind of an asshole am I?

I just... can't comprehend that in this moment, everything is just going to...go away.

I wake up on a bus.

The air feels dingy-different. People are more scattered, the sun is too bright. Gabe is sitting beside me, he's distant.

My jacket must have slipped under the seat while I was sleeping, because I can't find it anywhere. Goddammit.

" Hey, dude. Y'know where my jacket went?" I grumble, rubbing my nose vigorously with closed knuckles.

" Probably under the seat."

I roll my eyes at his snide remark, and the way his nose hitches up when he says it. It's always fucking bothered me.

" M'kay.."

And of course, my fingers twine around the loose fabric of the jacket. I can feel it's wet from my shoes, and covered in grains of dirt

".. Fuck." I scoff as I display the filthy piece of fucking _patented_ leather material in front of myself.

Absolutely filthy.

" Tsh.. who cares about how you look now?"

" What do you mean?" I ask, my eyebrows bunching up. What does he mean by that?

"I can't believe you're that fucking oblivious! Look around you, Jean. We've left the city, we're going to a refugee camp."

" W-what?"

"Yeah, do you not remember? Oh, yeah, right! You got hit over the fucking head with a metal pole when we were being fucking _evacuated_ from our street! _"_

" Whoa, okay, chill... _fuck._ "

As I am reminded by that sort of degrading remark, I almost instantaneously feel an aching pain in my forehead. And it really, really fucking hurts.I can feel something kind of wet under my finger when I rub it along my forehead. And when I take a look, it's blood. It must have dried over time, but there seems to be a bit of a gash.

I can feel the bus stop, and by the surroundings of the area, I can only guess we've stopped at the refugee camp.

I hear a shuffle in front of me, and I notice a passenger. It's a middle aged woman, shoveling up her two giant suit cases and hurrying off the bus. She seems to be holding a necklace close to her chest, a little too tightly. She looks too concerned. As I look closer I recognize that it's one of my neighbors. A quiet but friendly woman who recently lost her husband to a stroke. I remember when it happened. How she'd invited me and Gabe to come but we had midterms to study for and I had a job interview. I remember her trying to keep a smile. How many times I had apologized while Gabe simply smiled and then retreated back into the living room.

And now she has to deal with this.

I wonder what my parents are doing right now.

A man in a uniform walks up to Gabe and I and escorts us both off the bus. It goes by quite fast; we are checked for any kind of weapon first. Then we are both handed a package with a list of its contents: A water bottle, one large wool blanket, a whistle, and a name tag.

We are assigned a room. It's small, kind of...crusty. I don't know how to describe it. It's just a cell. A gross, gray cell. There's two bunks, a chair, and a bookshelf. I'm not much of a reader, but...national geographic seems _really_ interesting right now.

I sit myself down on the chair, grabbing the magazine and flipping lethargically to a random page. Interesting, Cheetahs will only chase you if you run. Well, that's cool.

I need to do something. I need to understand this situation. What the hell is even going on around me? I'm aware of the illness, aware of the mass death, the sudden outbursts of violence that seemed to occur once people detected the government was faltering just the slightest bit.

I'm just so confused.

Everything's happening so fast.

"Hey..Gabe? What are you planning to do after this shit blows over?"

He chuckles, a deep, guttural nicker.

What a prick.

"Idiot, Jean. You're a complete idiot."

" Yeah, I _know_."

He stands against the wall, staring at me. It's actually sort of making me uncomfortable.

" It's not going to just _blow_ over. I've been watching the news for _weeks_ , and you've- you've been listening to Green Day and eating tacitos in that _hovel_ you call your room. You don't know anything."

" But," He sighs irksomely. " That's what you do. You avoid all your problems and sit in that room of yours until it all goes away, don't you?"

" Screw off.." I practically squeeze the words through my throat.

" You're a coward." He presses, his lips folded into a small line on his face.

" I didn't ask to be criticized." I lash back.

My voice is quaking now, he knows what he's asking for. I know we're all 'doomed', or something. I know it's going to be hard, and people are literally _dying_ , and it's fucking _scary_ out there right now. And i haven't talked to my parents or any of my friends. But..the world will take care of that, won't it? Maybe. People have always found a cure.

" Leave me out of this bullshit." I sigh, throwing the article down and moving over to the rickety bed with one sheet and a shitty pillow. I sprawl out on the mattress, covering my face with my hands and gritting my teeth. Good thing that guy gave me an extra large wool blanket.

" Typical, little, baby Jean." He scoffs, kicking the wall like the child he is and leaving the small cell, walking out into the mess hall where everyone else is.

I hear one of the security guards conversing with him.

" He's just an angry jerk with a stick shoved ten miles up his ass.."

" I can separate you two, you know. I'll just have to talk with head of security first."


End file.
